


The Madness of Ratonhnhaké:ton Kenway

by sphinx81



Series: Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum: I Once was What You Are, You Will Be What I Am [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Be Careful What You Wish For, Canon Divergence - Assassin's Creed III, F/M, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderswap, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Templar Connor, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is gonna get ugly and sad, You Have Been Warned, You can't fight fate Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5317703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinx81/pseuds/sphinx81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU of the series <i>“Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum: I Once was What You Are, You Will Be What I Am,”</i> a gender-swapped AU of Assassin’s Creed III (you should read its first part, <i>Short Change Heroes</i> first). Instead of killing Thomas Hickey at the gallows when she’s to be hung, Fem!Connor spares his life. They attempt to kill each other at every turn yet work together when necessary. As the years go by, their mutual respect cautiously grows.</p><p>When Fem!Connor follows George Washington’s orders to rid them all of the Apple of Eden, she takes it on board the <i>Aquila,</i> where she also happens to be transporting Thomas Hickey back to Boston after he’s released from the army after the Colonial victory at Yorktown ends the war. Unfortunately, they both accidentally touch the Apple at the same time. So begins an alternate timeline set off by Connor traveling back in time to warn her grandfather of his tragic fate at the hands of Reginald Birch, as learned from her own father’s journal. And thus starts the Madness of Ratonhnhaké:ton Kenway, acknowledged daughter of Haytham Kenway and loyal Templar to the Grandmaster of the Colonial Rite of the Templar Order, Charles Lee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Madness of Ratonhnhaké:ton Kenway

**October, 1722: The Atlantic Ocean**

_“Do not trust Reginald Birch, for he is a Templar who will destroy you and your family! Train your daughter in the ways of the Assassins. And treat her as you will your son…”_

Stunned to utter silence, Edward Kenway and his daughter, Jennifer Scott, stared at the empty space in front of the wheel from which the dusky-skinned, strangely dressed woman disappeared. Save a glimmering, golden mist that swiftly vanished, there was no trace of her. Not even her footprints appeared upon the wet deck.

“Jay-sus! I ain’t…fuckin’ _that_ drunk!" Edward unsteadily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“As surprising as that is, Edward,” his daughter sarcastically replied despite rapidaly blinking her eyes.

“So you saw that uncanny shit…thing, too?” he swiftly corrected his language. There was a child about, he had to remember that now. “I ain't loosin' me mind from staring out at the sea for too long, is I?” Edward swallowed.

Staring at him for a long moment, Jennifer slowly nodded in agreement. Edward was glad when she did not shrug off his hand as he shakily dropped it to her shoulder. So far, she avoided all physical contact with him in the two months they’d been at sea. She also insisted on calling him by his name rather than “father,” “papa,” or anything vaguely paternal. He figured he had no one to blame but himself, and he would do all in his power to remedy it in due time. So he did not fully relax until she wound her arms about his waist as the silence fell between them.

“Edward?” she whispered.

“Y-yes, love?”

“What is a Templar? Or assassin for that matter? And…who is Reginald Birch?”

Flinching, Edward reached down and gave his daughter’s hand an affectionate pat. “I don’t know, darlin’. I don’t bloody know.”

Then again, if not for sight of the glowing round orb within the apparition’s hand and his experience in the Observatory with that pisspot, Bartholomew Roberts, he would have chalked it all up to some sort of madness.

He knew better now.

“Also, love?”

“Yes, Edward?”

“Never go speakin' of this to no one, yeah?” Crouching down to look Jennifer in eye, Edward rested his hands on her upper arms with a light squeeze. “Swear it to me, swee’art?” he pled.

Her gaze slowly searched his weather-worn face. Taking in his wild, wide, stormy azure eyes and the pale turn of his usually ruddy countenance, she slowly nodded in agreement. “I will not tell a soul.”

“That be me girl,” he hugged her tightly with a ragged sigh of relief.

As soon as they made landfall in Portsmouth, Edward sought out the Brotherhood. Within the month, Jenny began her training.

* * *

It proved impossible for Reginald Birch to manipulate his way into Edward Kenway’s inner circle. Every attempt made at cultivating a supposed friendship was soundly rejected. He even failed at seducing the blaggart’s admittedly stunning daughter. Jennifer Scott’s smoky stare and titter behind her lace fan in his endeavors to strike up a conversation with her every time they crossed paths at White’s Chocolate House left him flustered. As though he were some silly green boy fumbling in his first flirtation.

Livid, he ordered their home in Queen Anne’s Square watched. He even planted a couple of servants in their household. Yet every single informant ended up either dead, disappeared, or recruited into the Assassins. Regardless of the setbacks, Reginald still ordered the murder of his foe and the destruction of his family. Except the attack took far longer to plan, occurring five years later than Connor knew it should have from her father’s journal. Edward still died in the chaos. But now aged 15, Haytham was well into his Assassin training. 27 years-old and married to a beloved fellow assassin of the landed gentry, Jenny happened to be visiting her family for their weekly dinner together. Reginal purposely picked that night to ensure everyone’s end. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea that Jenny bested her brother when it came to hand-to-hand skills in combat. After all, she was 12 years older than him.

Jenny and Haytham proved able to rebuff the mercenaries before they could murder anyone else or set fire to their home. At the same time, Teresa Kenway witnessed her stepdaughter rather than Haytham kill one of them. As the relationship between the two was already strained, Jennifer didn’t give a damn about Teresa’s lowered opinion of her. She had no regrets when she moved with her husband to their newly acquired country estate outside of London soon afterwards. From there, Jenny swiftly consolidated Assassin influence in the months after the loss of her father.

Edward Kenway was well-mourned. Nevertheless, his unexpected end did not deal so large a blow to the English Brotherhood. Not with his daughter inheriting his position among its inner circle of leadership.

Experiencing the events of their father’s death together strengthened the Kenway sibling’s previously tense bond. Haytham now spent weeks at a time at Jenny’s country house. His mentor now, they trained and planned missions together. During the London social season, they attended all the grand parties and balls in town. They took in various plays and operas, commissioned art, held salons at Jennifer’s townhome, wandered the pleasure gardens at Vauxhall and undertook the usual frivolous pursuits of the _ton._ The toast of London society, they used the cover of vapid, wealthy siblings to strangle the British Templars’ hold.

No wonder Reginald Birch slunk away to start the Colonial Templars in North America himself. Within a year, Jennifer sent her 20 year-old brother to counter Birch’s efforts. Writing ahead to Achilles Davenport, John De La Tour and her father’s old friend, Adéwalé to continue her brother’s mentorship, the Colonial Assassins flourished. 

At the same time, Edward Kenway always taught his children to question knowledge and be merciful in their dealings. Especially with civilians who were not involved in the centuries-long war between the two factions. So when Shay Cormac’s removal of the precursor piece caused the Lisbon Earthquake that killed tens of thousands a decade after his arrival to the colonies, Haytham corresponded with his sister about his concerns.

She rejected them in full. Could he not see the greater picture? That none of the priceless pieces should ever fall into Templar hands? No matter the cost? Did he want to see his father’s painstaking work he recorded in his journal go to waste? It was not his place to question her motivation as Master Assassin and Leader of the English Brotherhood. _Nothing is true, everything is permitted_ she signed her letters with a flourish.

Jennifer Scott may have scorned her father’s last name in favor of her mother’s. But she inherited his doggedness and disregard for anything standing in the way of alleged victory. As well as his head for ruthless cunning. An early life spent struggling for survival before her father sent for her created an additional  disdain for those outside of blood or the bond of tested friendship. _Blood before all_ _, brother_ , she always reminded him,  _B_ _onds before the rabble whose freedoms we guard._ It cost her dearly. For by the time she received Haytham’s final letter disavowing himself from all she held dear, it was too late.

It was Haytham who betrayed the Assassins to the Templars in 1756, not Shay Cormac.

No matter his disgust with Achilles for the Lisbon incident, Shay refused to side with the Templars when he learned of his mentor’s treachery to Reginald Birch. He instead chose to warn the Brotherhood of the coming war. But it was too late to stop the turn of Fate’s wheel. Along with Achilles, Shay died in the final Templar purge of the Assassins upon their invasion of Davenport Homestead.

Adéwalé remained the sole survivor. Given warning by Haytham out of loyalty to his father and their old friendship forged on the Caribbean seas, he still arrived too late to the Homestead. All that remained were the charred remains of the house and the dead bodies of his brothers and sisters in arms. The Templars then pursued him to the Boston docks. But they failed to catch him as he boarded a ship to Haiti. When it sailed into the path of a hurricane with a Templar ship on its tail, neither it nor Adéwalé was ever seen or heard from again. The Templar ship was lost as well. 

None of it bought Haytham the leadership he sought. Still incensed by Edward Kenway’s rebuffs to his supposed overture of friendship, Reginald never trusted his son. No matter Haytham’s hand in the destruction of the Colonial Assassins. Nor his infamous skills in combat, acute intelligence and tactical skill. The turncoat’s sister remained a high-ranking and untouchable member of the English branch of Assassins. It simply would not do for a Grandmaster to be so closely related to their greatest enemy. So it was Charles Lee Reginald groomed to take his place as the next Grandmaster. Reginald even seriously contemplated sending Jennifer back her brother in a coffin. Thankfully, he died of lingering illness before his final plans could come to fruition.

The transfer of power from Birch to Lee occurred peacefully upon his death. Surrounded by his Templar brethren in his mansion on Beacon Hill, his final act was to clasp his Order’s ring into Charles’ hand. And so Haytham never came to know of how Reginald specifically orchestrated his father’s death. He and Jennifer were only aware that it was the Templars in general from their questioning of the mercenaries that night before they killed them.

Without a wife or legitimate children, Reginald also named Lee his heir. Now, the Templars never wanted for funds to increase their power. With no more Assassins to hinder them, they were unstoppable. 

* * *

On April 4, 1756, Ratonhnhaké:ton was still born to Kaniehti:io in her village of Kanatahséton in the Mohawk Valley. And her mother still banished Haytham from her sight for deceiving her about his true motives. However, within this reality, it’d been under a year since the Lisbon Earthquake and his defection from the Assassins to the Templars.

It was Haytham, not Lee who led the Templars in their search for the precursor site. Four years later, when he stumbled across a native child in the forest on his way to speak to his former lover, he froze. For she not only spoke English but also bore Kenway nose, chin and jawline. Her big, brown eyes, full mouth and high, freckled cheekbones sent him crouching to the ground to purposefully question her of who her mother was.

“Kaniehti:io,” the child stuttered, shirking away from him.

His mind reeled at the implication. Steeling himself to appear utterly calm, he murmured, “And what do they call you, little one?”

Narrowed gaze snapping from him to the confused expressions of the men behind him, the child boldly tilted her chin upward and unflinchingly replied, “Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Her rising bravery charmed him. “That is quite a mouthful, I’m afraid,” Haytham chuckled.

“What is _your_ name?” the little girl insisted. Like her mother, she stared at him with shrewd eyes that lent no room for any sort of idiocy. Her expression brought back a flood of memories he thought he suppressed years ago.

“Hayham,” he whispered, “Haytham Kenway.”

There were no angry words slandering her people for their way of life. No clammy, furious hand choking the life out of her as the other men laughed and mocked. No crazed vows to wipe her tribe from the face of the earth. No spitting insults and railing diatribes extolling the supposed virtues of colonial civilization. Instead, Haytham rose, held out a steady hand and politely asked her to lead them to her mother. She slowly wrapped her small grasp around his big fingers and tugged him forward.

When the acrid smell of smoke assaulted them as they walked down the trail, Haytham swept her up into his arms and sprinted for the village. Because he did not waste his time with threatening the child’s life, he arrived a few minutes earlier than Ratonhnhaké:ton could have on her own. Just in time to see colonial troops putting her home to the torch. Poor Kaniehti:io still died within the flames. Yet Ratonhnhaké:ton did not witness it. She stayed with Haytham’s men when he barked out orders for them to guard her with their lives. While they did as told, only one gallantly draped his longcoat over her shoulders. He introduced himself as John Pitcairn and vowed that everything would mend itself all in good time. Drawn in by his warm smile and comforting hand on her shoulder, she did not think him quite so arrogant as the other white men.

It was Haytham who found Ziio in the burning hut. Unable to free her from the rubble, her last words settled his suspicions.

_Do not abandon our daughter; swear to me that you will care for Ratonhnhaké:ton, no matter your regrets with me._

_Upon my life, you have my word._

The rage of her death flowing through his veins, Haytham slaughtered every single colonial soldier. He questioned the last one before driving his blade through his stomach and letting him bleed out.

_Washing…Commander Washington ordered this shithole burned to ash for colluding with the enemy._

Haytham took Ratonhnhaké:ton with him when he returned to Boston. Her villagers scattered in the chaos, they assumed she died in the flames with her mother. Thus, she was raised in the colonial way by her father.

He loved her wholly. The apple of his eye, he showered her with equal parts discipline and affection. Educated her in mind and heart with the best tutors money could buy. History, Mathematics, Philosophy, the Sciences, French, Greek and Latin were her constant companions. While her embroidery was subpar, she keenly took to the _viola de gamba,_ which added to her dexterity _._ Trained to fight and wield a litany of weapons, she easily absorbed the graceful lessons of her dance instructors. She excelled at chess and other games of skill and strategy. The irony was not lost upon Haytham that he supervised her instruction in a nearly identical manner as his father undertook with his sister. All those years ago, Edward Kenway granted his daughter an education far beyond feminine standards of the day. For in order to create excellence, it was imperative the foundation be constructed of the best materials.

Admittedly, the other Templars kept their distance due to their distrust of the former Assassin. Only John Pitcairn treated the duo with equal respect. He admittedly spent most of his time in the field as a Major in the British army. In his stead, his wife Elizabeth constantly visited the Kenways. Within a matter of weeks, Ratonhnhaké:ton was invited into their home to play with their litter of children. If only to ensure the she socialized with those of her own age and father’s social station. The Pitcairns took an immediate liking to the rambunctious, quizzical girl. So much so that Haytham allowed her to stay with them when on long absences for the Order. Whenever John came home on leave, he always shared with her the various treats and gifts he showered upon his children. Elizabeth swiftly became her source of female advice.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s dearest friend among them grew to be one of their younger sons, Robert. Four years older, he found himself amused with the dusky-skinned girl’s loud laugh, endless questions and abiding love of animals. She was always grateful for how often he smuggled her caramels from his parents’ kitchen. Their favorite activity consisted of exploring the forests surrounding the rambling grounds of the Pitcairn estate a few miles outside Boston. He never chastised her for how she ruined her dresses roughhousing and constantly climbing the trees.

She missed him terribly when he joined the British Navy as a midshipman in 1766. Hayham and Elizabeth pointed out that she could practice her writing by corresponding with him. Their letters soon constantly crossed the ocean back and forth.

When Robert’s latest ship, the _HMS Aurora_ , disappeared en route to the Comoros Islands from the Cape of Good Hope early 1770, she mourned him alongside his family. Haytham couldn’t bear to watch her weep for weeks on end. Though he couldn’t blame her for it. He could barely imagine John’s devastation. No parent should ever have to bury a child. Let alone, never know of their ultimate fate.

In the end, Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t grow up bent on vengeance against the Templars. There was no exiled mentor for her in Achilles, who was long dead by the time she came of age. Those who could have taken his place, Adéwalé or Shay, were also gone and buried. She and her father instead vowed to make Washington pay for his crimes. Being raised in comfort and wealth allowed her to move about upper classes of colonial society with relative ease. Templar influence and her honed talents took her even further. Polite society either ignored or refused to question her obviously Native heritage. She herself quickly lost her memories of her native language and culture of her people. Even her mother’s face faded into a blurry vision she could barely recall by the time she was 10 years-old. While her father learned to pronounce her name easily enough, during her missions for the Order, she took on the pseudonym “Teresa Kenway,” after his mother.

Guided by Haytham’s determined hand, Ratonhnhaké:ton was inducted into the Templar Order at the age of 18.

The next year, after the Battle of Lexington and Concord, rumors swirled throughout the colonies of Washington’s inevitable command of the Continental Army. That simply wouldn’t do. Not when Charles Lee’s military experience vastly surpassed that planter’s. Lee not only served in the French and Indian War but also fought in the Portuguese army against the Spanish invasion of 1762. Raised to Lieutenant Colonel, three years later, he served as an aide-de-camp under King Stanislaus II of Poland. He then traveled throughout Europe for six years until returning to Poland to fight for the King during the Russo-Turkish War.

George Washington died on June 26, 1775. It was ten days after the Second Continental Congress created the Continental Army. As well as three days after John Adams nominated him as its General. He was found slumped over his desk in his study at Mount Vernon. All assumed it to be an ill-timed heart attack. It never occurred to anyone that the culprit was poison. Her revenge complete for the destruction of her village and the death of her mother, Ratonhnhaké:ton had no regrets.

Within a fortnight, Charles Lee was easily elected as the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.

**Author's Note:**

> -John Pitcairn was married Elizabeth Dalrymple in real life and they had nine children. Robert Pitcairn was one of their real sons. He joined the British Navy as a midshipman in 1766 aboard the _HMS Swallow._ The Pitcairn Islands in the southern Pacific Ocean are named after him since he was the first crewmember on the HMS Swallow to spot them on July 3, 1767. And as in this story, he really did disappear with the rest of the crew of the _HMS Aurora_ in early 1770. The ship was lost at sea en route to the Comoros Islands from the Cape of Good Hope.
> 
> -Charles Lee’s listed experience is also real. He felt he would make a superior General to George Washington due to his years in the military in the Colonies and in Europe. Thus he despised Washington, was in constant conflict with him and gladly slandered him to any who would listen. His infamous retreat during the Battle of Monmouth was called treason and many were convinced he planned to desert to the British. Court-martialed for it, he argued that it made no sense for the men under his command to get slaughtered since he was outnumbered by British forces. He was still convicted and relieved of command. However, there was no consensus at the time whether or not he was set up to fail or truly planned to betray the Patriots to the British. 
> 
> A 1777 battle plan drafted by Lee of British operations against the Patriots was found British General Howe’s family archive in 1857. The plans were done while Lee was a prisoner of war under Howe. Since Lee never properly resigned his British Army commission before he joined the Patriots, he was under threat of being tried and hung as a deserter by the British. Whether or not Lee created the plans under duress or for pure treason is still up for debate to this day.


End file.
